


Perfect Kisses Never Happen in Alleyways!

by EmpressVegah



Series: USxUK Summer Camp 2012 [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: First Kiss, First Meetings, M/M, Romance, Secretly Hopeless Romantic Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 19:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5678623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmpressVegah/pseuds/EmpressVegah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Kirkland had always thought of the perfect scenario for his first kiss. Never in his lifetime had he imagined it would happen as an accident, and in an alleyway, of all places!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect Kisses Never Happen in Alleyways!

**Author's Note:**

> Fic entry for the USxUK Summer Camp 2012 in Livejournal.  
> This fic is relatively based on the concept of Sailor Moon’s theme of past lives, reincarnation and destiny.

Arthur Kirkland had always been a cynical man. He was born in an era where love was synonymous with casual fucking and one-week relationships. At the age of twenty-three, he had learnt that romantic love was almost non-existent and that people were generally egocentric idiots who couldn’t contain their libidos and use anybody to satisfy carnal desires. Or so he would like to think.

He scowled, his thick eyebrows scrunching up as his train of thought led him to unnecessary examples of why his stand would always be correct. A sodding git of a frog-face he was unfortunately acquainted was spending his days hedonistically shagging with anything that moved and he had often seen him with one too many partners to support his notion.

And then another ill-timed circumstance that he had been introduced to an albino whom he had seen attempting and spectacularly failing in getting that lady with a flower clip into his bed with such a distastefully crude manner he couldn’t afford to sympathize with the man for being sent to the hospital for more than one instance.

Also, he knew one Spanish bloke who had almost convinced Arthur out of his belief, but then when he saw that man’s partner, a foul-mouthed, ill-tempered, easily-angered Italian who kept on hitting and punching the Spanish, he had concluded that the world he currently lived in was honestly devoid of any authentic love. That kind of love that he had only encountered in tales of valor, courage and romance.

He sighed as he picked up his knitting basket, and sat on his favorite seat on the armchair near the window. He looked over, seeing the orange and yellow tones of the setting sun wash over the town he was currently living in, the gray concrete becoming slightly mystical in his eyes as night lights slowly began to take charge. The atmosphere was making him think of things that shouldn’t be thought of a man of his age, and yet he couldn’t help it.

He began to imagine himself in a faraway place, walking in a pathway surrounded with roses, holding hands with someone who definitely made him feel warm all over, and then stopping his partner, who turned to look at him. Though he couldn’t make out his partner’s appearance, he knew she would be perfect, his ideal love, and leaned in to give his true love’s kiss.

He didn’t realize he was so lost in his imagination until something nudged his basket that it almost tumbled over. He immediately snapped back to reality, steadying his basket, and glaring at the floating rabbit he affectionately called Flying Mint Bunny.

The recipient of such glare just giggled and flew past him to perch on the window, pressing its cheek against the cool glass and looked at him. Arthur gave a loud exhale and reached out to pet its head, and then began his favorite past time.

And with a few more strokes of his skilled, nimble hands, he was about to finish his latest project, a scarf, when Flying Mint Bunny spoke in its adorably cute voice, “Arthur, what were you imagining a while ago?”

Arthur found himself blushing, the images of his fantasy coming back to him, the envisioned feeling of lips pressed against his, the warmth he experienced all over his body, and how pathetic he felt now that his friend asked him such question. “N-nothing!” he spluttered, bringing his knitting over his face to hide the embarrassed red still stained on his face.

Flying Mint Bunny giggled again, and he could have sworn that rabbit was making fun of him. “Oh, Arthur! Both of us always know what goes on in your head!”

Arthur gave an indignant stomp while still sitting. “How do you know what ‘goes on in my head’?”

“Because,” Flying Mint Bunny made a face that clearly gave an impression of a leer, how his adorable rabbit could manage that, he didn’t know, “You are a romantic at heart.”

At this statement, Arthur made an attempt to deny the notion, but it didn’t give him the chance, “Stop denying, Arthur dear, and allow yourself to be romantic, who knows, you might find that true love very soon.”

At the end of its declaration, it flew to him and nudged on his cheek. “Come on, dear, don’t pout, we all know I’m right.”

That cheeky rabbit, his mind supplied, but he gave in and took the rabbit in his hands, resting it against his chest. His favorite mint bunny cuddled up to him. He was aware that Flying Mint Bunny was right, but he didn’t want to admit it.

Arthur glanced at his shelf, eyes roaming over the hardbound titles of the romantic adventures he had almost memorized by heart, then to the emerald gem shaped like a rose glittering against the setting sun, and hoped he could lay down his pretense and be truly honest with himself.

* * *

He always had that perfect scenario in his head. That his first kiss would always belong to his one true love, that their kiss would be orchestrated so perfectly that no one could surpass at how romantic it would be. It would be in a garden, the scent of newly bloomed flowers surrounding them, amplifying their feelings for each other. It would be underneath the full moon, its mystical light shining over them, making the atmosphere more romantic. It would be consensual, of course. The two of them would look into each other’s eyes, the glow of the moon reflecting on them, and then they would slowly, slowly close their lids and press their lips together in a very chaste first kiss.

A true love’s kiss.

Arthur never had thought that his first kiss would happen in an alleyway. He never had thought that all those perfect scenarios would all be naught; that all those fantasies of first kisses and true love would be down to the drain.

He was walking briskly one afternoon from his work at the library, very eager to go home and start another project of knitting. He was so mad at the boisterous high school students who didn’t know how to shut their trap inside a blasted library, for Christ’s sake. He had told them, in a very polite manner, to minimize their noise, but they just went on and he was still sorting the monstrous stacks of new arrivals that his body ached while his ears bled from the noise. He was about to lose it and tell them off when the library clock chimed to signal its closing. He was so relieved to send off the people for him to continue sorting in silence. When he was done, he promised to himself that he would knit a pair of mittens once he arrived home.

He placed one hand inside his pocket, feeling the rose-shaped emerald with his fingers. He silently prayed to whoever was listening that he could stretch more of his very waning patience until he could arrive home because he would really explode in inappropriate fits if it wouldn’t be managed soon.

He wasn’t paying much attention to where he was walking, his mind lost in an angry tetrad of jumbled thoughts, swears, pseudo-prayers, and anticipation of his new mittens, that when he reached in a corner, he crashed into someone head on, sending the two of them toppling down in tangled limbs.

Arthur didn’t know how it happened, but he had felt, for one brief moment, chapped set of lips against his own before he fell on top of that stranger, who gave an exclamation similar to “Oof!”

Both of them were so surprised of what happened that neither of them moved at first. Arthur was still reeling over the facts that: 1) he crashed onto someone 2) he somehow had experienced his first kiss 3) he was still lying atop of the stranger.

The body beneath him wasn’t soft or pliant like a woman's (as if he had any experience in the opposite sex department to compare the body with, his traitorous mind added). It was hard and very warm. But when a very manly voice (albeit a bit breathy) resonated rather than heard, “Man, ain’t ya a heavy one?” which sounded more like a statement instead of a question.

Arthur then realized that he was really lying on top of the person – a man, his mind supplied oh so helpfully (it was official, his brain’s goal was to spite him), with his cheek cushioned on the bloke’s chest, his arms splayed all over the man’s shoulders, his hips in such a perfectly compromising location against the man’s person, and his legs spread apart, slightly encasing the other’s set of limbs.

He wished the earth would open up and swallow him whole.

He was paralyzed with sheer mortification when the man finally moved to sit up, one hand gently pushing Arthur’s shoulder off his chest, and Arthur could really feel the awkward shifting of hips against hips and his face exploded into many shades of red as he sat on the man’s lap, while his lower regions exploded into many degrees of sensation, not wanting to be removed of their newly acquired position, and those lower regions seemed very satisfied he couldn’t move them.

The stranger’s other hand went to the back of his head, wincing. Arthur could only tell his body to move away but his upper set of limbs were still in its embarrassed state and refused to obey him. He was looking down, staring at the plain white shirt underneath the thick layer of a brown leather air force jacket of the stranger, when he heard the man breathe a relieved sigh.

He finally allowed himself to look into the face of the person his crashed onto, seeing the pair of lips first, his embarrassment returning but he forced himself to continue to the pair of the bluest eyes he had ever seen framed with glasses.

Within two seconds his mind provided him with two things: the man was gorgeous, and he shared his first kiss with him.

On the third second, Arthur felt himself stiffen and his mind supplied him with a memory not his own - of castles and arks, of silver colors and blue schemes, of kisses and caresses, of love and longing, and of war and death - that when he returned back to his proper state of mind the man he was sitting on was concerned and kept on asking him if he was all right, then he realized his vision was blurry and his cheeks were wet. The feeling of familiarity reached his bones, and the ache in his heart that went with it, so painfully melancholic that it was almost drowning him. He needed to get away.

He hastily stood up, his knees shaking with what he glimpsed in his head and with what he felt in his heart; emotions he knew he never personally experienced were crowding on his chest, struggling to be acknowledged. Confusion was evident on his face, but when he saw that the handsome man was beginning to get up, he took a step back and turned, intending to run away, away from the assault of feelings and sensations, away from the cause, away from him.

So many questions of what just happened to him assaulted his consciousness as he ran. He didn’t understand why it happened to him. Even though he was experienced with magic, as what Flying Mint Bunny was, he was still at a loss of the reason for the strange occurrence. His brain was too much of a mess that a very small voice that said “Your first kiss is with a man” was overpowered by the chaotic dissonance of thoughts resounding in his mind.

Arthur didn’t realize that his emerald gem had slipped from his pocket during the impact. He was busy escaping when the man picked up the rose-patterned gem, turning the object over in his hand, examining, until a spark of recognition glittered in his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> One of my first works back in 2012!


End file.
